


A Lovely Way to Burn

by withthepilot



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Illnesses, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones is quarantined with a contagious virus but needs some relief from the symptoms. Jim makes the best of a bad situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovely Way to Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abigail89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigail89/gifts).



> Written for the "Hot and Cold" challenge at jim_and_bones on LJ in response to a prompt from abigail89.

"Goddamn, it's hot!"

Jim squirms in his chair, situated right in front of the transparent glass wall of the sickbay quarantine room. He watches as Bones removes yet another item of clothing, finally down to his regulation briefs and socks. It's difficult to look away from all that glistening, tan skin on display, harder still not to imagine running his hands and tongue all over it, collecting all that beading sweat for himself. But then he reminds himself that this is no time for fantasies. Bones is sick as a dog and has to stay in that room for 48 hours, lest he contaminate the entire crew with that highly contagious virus he picked up on Altruis Theta. Jim promised M'Benga he'd keep an eye on him for a few hours, was happy to do it and still is.

It just seems really unfair that this is one of the side effects. Not to mention that raging hard-on that Bones is sporting, barely concealed by those briefs.

"I keep telling you, Bones, it's not hot in there. I've got the temperature set as low as Geoff will let me have it."

"It is so hot. It's a goddamn sauna in here." Bones lays a muscled forearm on the glass and rests his sweaty forehead upon it, peering out at Jim with a definite come-hither look. "You know, if you really loved me, you'd get in here with me."

Jim swallows. "That's the virus talking, not you. You know I'd get infected in two seconds if I went in there."

"So? Then we'd be both be feelin' this together. It'd be fun."

And that's when Bones reaches down and starts rubbing his cock through his briefs, and licking his lips to entice Jim to boot, as if he isn't already sex on legs. It's got to be up there as one of the dirtiest things Jim has ever seen—and he's seen it _all_. He feels a pronounced ache between his thighs and shifts in his chair again, though it's no use; Bones can surely see what he's doing to Jim.

"Even if I wanted to, I can't. Geoff's got a special lock on that room, not even the captain's code can override it. And it's not the same as yours, I asked."

"Damn it," Bones snarls. "I'm so damn horny. This thing is horrible." He squints, frustrated as sweat drips from his hairline, and for a split second, looks completely miserable. Jim leans forward instinctively, desperately wishing he could help.

"Well," he says, thinking aloud. "I can't go in there, but maybe I could..." He stands up and pulls off his uniform shirt, going for his black undershirt when he hears Bones gasp from behind the glass.

"Jim," he says warningly. "You—you can't. I won't be able to control myself if you get all..."

"You need to come, I assume. And now I need to come, thanks to you." Jim shucks off his boots and pants and steps closer to the glass, touching the area that Bones keeps fogging up with his breath on the other side. He traces the outline of Bones' open mouth with his fingertips. "Come on, show me," he murmurs.

And Bones just looks at him, hesitating for one tremulous moment, before he wrenches his underwear down and takes himself in hand. His cock is flushed red, an angry and needy color, and Jim wishes like hell he could break through the glass and suck Bones down his throat. He bites his bottom lip and mirrors Bones instead, pushing down his briefs and fisting the base of his cock, indulging himself in a few slow pulls. He gnaws at his lip until he has to groan, and then Bones presses his sweaty forehead to the glass, shuddering.

"Can't look at you, kid," he gasps. "Your fucking mouth..."

Jim touches his forehead to the same spot and imagines he can feel Bones' heat radiating right through the thick, phaser-proof glass. He squeezes his shaft, suppressing a whine as a clear drop escapes from the sensitive slit. "Go on, tell me," he urges.

"All swollen and bitten...so damn p-pretty. Just wanna shove my cock in there, fuck your throat..."

"Oh, god." Jim looks down to see Bones stroking himself in earnest now and follows his lead. He wipes the cloudy glass with his free hand so he doesn't lose sight of Bones falling apart so beautifully. "Would so let you, Bones, would let you fuck me anyway you wanted me, anywhere..."

"Over your desk, on your paperwork...over the sink, or—oh, fuck, right in here, against this glass, all sweaty and hot and—"

" _Shit_ ," Jim hisses. He feels a blissfully warm ripple race through his body and when he blinks his eyes open, he realizes he's come all over the glass. He might be embarrassed about shooting so quickly if not for the fact that Bones is eating it up, clawing at the barrier between them and rutting against the same spot on the other side. He moans loudly, as if he's actually pushing his length through Jim's come, and Jim just stares down at the entrancing sight, wide-eyed and amazed. Bones throws his head back with a shout of Jim's name when he goes over the edge, creating a matching stain on the glass. Jim blinks to clear his vision and looks down at the utter mess they've made.

He has no idea how he's going to explain this to M'Benga.

"Jim," Bones murmurs after a while. "Sleepy..."

"Hey, yeah, that's good, Bones. There's a cot right behind you. Sleep it off, okay? As much as you can. We've still got another 39 hours to go."

A tired nod of acknowledgment and then Bones is stumbling off to his cot, still sweaty all over and gloriously nude. Jim sighs and picks up his undershirt, attempts to wipe away the stain he's left with the bunched-up fabric. Then he redresses, save for the undershirt, and goes back to his chair, preparing himself for at least an hour or two of gazing at the twin swells of Bones' bare ass. He should probably take a nap, too, but hell—this is too good to pass up.


End file.
